The Past in the Present: Christmas Edition
by nelliesbones
Summary: Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening... It's a Booth-and-Brennan Christmas. Spoilerfree, warm-hearted and M (for a reason).
1. How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

_I don't know if you're following my other story, but I've been doing the "Past in the Present" thing for a while now. So, this is the Christmas edition. I'm stretching (make that violating) the show's timeline with this story, I know, but let's just pretend it has happened like this. After all, it's Christmas._

_All you have to know about "The Past in the Present":_

"_Booth, this might sound crazy, but I'd like to suggest something. What do you think about reenacting the first times we could have had?"_

_He wrinkled his nose._

"_Like role play, Bones?"_

_She pondered his question for a moment._

"_Yes and no, since we wouldn't play roles but our former selves."_

THE PAST IN THE PRESENT: CHRISTMAS EDITION

I. How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Temperance Brennan could name the exact year Christmas had lost its magic for her. She had been fifteen years old, waking up one December morning in the fragments of her former life. The abandonment of her parents had been too grave to be true, and, when they hadn't in some magical way returned to her on Christmas morning, Christmas itself had taken part in the betrayal as well.

She had refused to believe in anything magical from then on.

Seeley Booth loved Christmas. Cherished it. Santa and elves and the power of wishes. He had held tight to it during his battered childhood and the years after because... the world wasn't that bad if something like Christmas could exist in it as well, was it?

What happens, if two people like them crash into the holiday season with the speed of light? It could be good, right? Add a child to the mix, and it could be perfect.

However...

One year ago, she had worn a blond wig, hiding in a crappy motel room somewhere in rural Iowa. One year ago, he had spent Christmas alone, trying very desperately to stay sane. One year ago, there hadn't been magic for their baby girl.

Where do you go from there? Well, it had to be _somewhere_ because... Christmas was just around the corner.

Ho-ho-ho. Ho. Ho...

With every house in their street that put on decorations, she got quieter; with every December day that went by, his smile felt more frozen, until, one evening, the topic had gotten even bigger than the metaphorical elephant in the room.

Until neither of them could avoid the inevitable anymore.

"Bones, we have to talk about Christmas."

Dropping the dish towel, she turned around with wide eyes, her voice nothing but a whisper.

"I know."

He shrugged while grabbing two wine glasses.

"I mean, it's not just us, we have to think about Christine as well. And even if it were just us..."

"You'd want magic."

Pouring wine into two glasses, he watched the reflections in the deep red for a while.

"I was hoping for a miracle last year, you know? Sitting there on Christmas morning, watching the door. Wishing against all odds..."

His voice trailed off, as her stomach clenched. After Pelant, after she had come home, she had been happy enough to slip back into their old life without too many thoughts. It had been too easy, she had known it all along. It was ironic, somehow, that she had done to him what her parents had done to her, and she remembered another Christmas morning, when _she_ had been the one watching the door.

Taking one cautious step towards him, she brushed his arm.

"Booth..."

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze.

"It's okay, I know."

"No, it's not. Christmas is... mean. It's so intrusive with its joy, wants you to be happy, but when you're not..."

"You're even lonelier."

"Yes."

"But... we aren't alone."

She took one more step towards him, and, tilting her head, she rubbed her cheek against his sleeve in an uncharacteristic gesture of neediness. He stretched his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder, tucking her under his chin. And everything was better somehow, if only a little. After a while, he chuckled.

"Christmas is mean, huh?"

She blushed, even though he couldn't see it.

"Yes, it's just too... Christmas-y."

His second arm joined in, pulling her into a full embrace.

"Bones... Last year was... it was..." He swallowed hard. "But... I still believe in Christmas, you know?"

"Last year was so sad," she murmured into his chest, and he lost a kiss in her hair.

"Let's get Christmas back, Baby. Just... let's give this a shot. Christine deserves a real, full-fledged Christmas. And we do, too."

Raising her head, she sought his gaze.

"What if I don't like it?"

Finally, a grin broke out on his face.

"A Seeley Booth Christmas? You'll love it."

And his grin triggered her own.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

-BONES-

The next day, a wooden reindeer made it into their dooryard. A sleigh followed shortly after. Two days later, the mighty hut was sparkling with a hundred Christmas lights. Christine watched the development with bright eyes, not quite understanding what was going on, but sensing a strange kind of excitement.

In the house, it smelled like gingerbread and wood fire, and, one evening, timid snowflakes began their dance in the air. Wearing a red snowsuit, the girl was running around in the garden, catching frosty flakes with her hands, watching utterly amazed how the strange cold thingies melted in her palms.

"It's just water, Christine, the altered aggregate state makes it so pretty."

"Water?"

Catching his girl from behind, Booth threw her into the air.

"Don't listen to Mommy, it's snow and it's magic!"

"Booth!"

Christine screamed with glee, and Booth put her down again, turning to her mother.

"Magic, Bones."

Her brow furrowed, and she braced her hands on her hips.

"There's hardly anything magical about weather."

Approaching Brennan with a big grin, he lifted her, whirling her around until her protest died in laughter. Snowflakes were gathering in her auburn hair, glistening in the dim evening light, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. Letting her down again, slowly, Booth held her close to his body for a while, swaying her in a rhythm that matched the falling snow, the child hopping around them in a circle.

"Magic is in the eye of the beholder," he murmured, pushing a few loose curls out of her face, and, when he kissed her, her lips were warm despite the cold, and she tasted like oranges and cinnamon.

She hummed against his lips, her fingers drawing lazy patterns on his back.

"Can't we settle on 'beautiful' for a start?" she finally asked softly, and he captured her lips one more time. Equally softly.

"Yeah, we can. Look at the snow, Christine! Isn't it beautiful?"

"Beautiful! Cold!"

The girl was looking up at her parents with big eyes, and, with a deep breath that smelled like winter, a long-forgotten sensation began to stir in Brennan. It was just a hunch, but it was there.

Something that felt like Christmas.

-BONES-

Later that night, after they had put a very excited girl to bed, after he had told the story of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer for about three times, a bottle of wine found them on their couch.

"Booth... I was thinking..."

"Hey, that's something new."

Rolling her eyes, she let her head fall onto his shoulder.

"Very funny."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his wine.

"You were thinking?"

"Yes. Now that's Christmas... for real... I was thinking about our other Christmases."

"Locked up in the lab and stuff like that?"

"Stuff like that, exactly."

Her hand found his easily, fingers caressing each other.

"And what exactly were you thinking?"

"I wanna go back, Booth."

"Like the ghosts of Christmas?"

"No... more like this _other_ thing we're doing."

Wiggling her eyebrows, she looked up at him, and he had to laugh.

"You really think we should've had sex while waiting for the poisonous lung fungus to kick in?"

Now it was her turn to smile.

"No, but we missed out. On a lot of things. Let's just, I don't know, make the most of it."

Tilting her head, he brushed her silky hair with his lips, and she nestled up to him.

"Whatever you want, Babe."

"Booth?"

"Huh?"

"What do you know about spiking eggnog?"

To be continued...

_Here we go. This idea should have come a few weeks ago, but I still hope to finish this story before Christmas. Typos are all mine. If anybody has too much free time at hand and wants to beta, give me a note._


	2. Spirit in the Lab

_All my love to Linda (1cosmicgirl) and Michelle (BlueMoonFan) for betaing! _

II. Spirit in the Lab

"We cannot spike the eggnog, Bones."

"Why not? Hodgins used to do it all the time."

"Yes, and there was a reason why he stopped."

"The Fourth of July Fiasco is time-barred."

"You really wanna do this?"

Abandoning the pure alcohol in the flask, Brennan smiled at Booth sweetly.

"Yes."

"Why? This is crazy."

"Look, Booth, Angela isn't wearing elf shoes anymore. Zack and Dr. Goodman are gone. So much has changed. If we want to re-enact our first Christmas together, we have to adopt drastic measures."

"Jeez, I should be glad you didn't decide to poison us," he muttered between clenched teeth.

Her face softened.

"This is the Christmas party we never got a chance to go to."

"What about Christine?"

"She's building a snowman with her grandfather right now. Booth... we could always call a cab."

"Alright. Alright. You really wanna do this?"

"Absolutely."

-BONES-

"Man, this eggnog is really good," Hodgins exclaimed while taking another gulp; while, on the table in the middle of the room, the Jeffersonian interns were performing a very heart-felt version of "Santa Baby".

Cam was holding a candle in her hand, cheering them on, well, cheering Arasto on, but hardly anyone noticed that anymore.

"I can't tell you the last time eggnog was so good."

Sipping very carefully at his own glass, Booth regarded the unsteady man in front of him.

"Where's Michael?"

"Angie's dad's in town. Probably getting him a tattoo or something like that."

Booth's eyes widened.

"Just kidding. He's fine."

"So, hypothetically, if this eggnog was spiked..."

"Dude, I knew it! You?"

Booth shook his head slowly.

"Dr. B? Kudos, man."

"Kudos? What for? This is crazy!"

Hodgins patted Booth's arm.

"There's nothing better than a crazy woman who's willing to go home with you. Apropos... Where's mine?"

"Last time I checked, she was losing her jacket in the strip poker game with Santa over there."

Hodgins rubbed his hands.

"That's my cue to leave."

"Yeah, go. You should stop her."

"Stop her? Are you nuts? I'm gonna bet on her."

Shaking his head, Booth watched the other man rushing away, finally downing his own eggnog.

"Damn, I need more," he uttered, taking in his surroundings...

He knew the man that was dressed up as a reindeer and recognized the woman sitting on his back as well. They were squints, reasonable squints, but tonight, it seemed as if they had locked away their brains along with their lab coats. The choir on the table had lost one man; apparently, Fisher had passed out, but one intern Booth had never seen before was already giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while another woman was decorating him with tinsel.

"Booth! I was looking for you!"

And there she was, the source of all evil, looking way too sweet, way too innocent in her black-skirt-green-shirt ensemble. Her hair fell onto her shoulders in soft waves, and she wore an almost angelic looking smile.

"Bones! How much eggnog have you had?"

"Three glasses. Maybe four. I'm perfectly sober."

"Of course you are."

"Come, I need your help."

Grabbing his hand, she dragged him with her.

"Bones, you know what? I'm kinda glad we never made it to the party back then. I don't think I could've handled it."

"What? Why?"

"Your best friend is currently engaged in a strip poker game."

"She's winning."

"Okay. _Soooo_... Santa will be naked soon?"

Furrowing her brow, she looked up at him.

"I see your point. Still, I need your help to photocopy my butt."

Silence. Then:

"What?"

She shrugged.

"It sounded funny when Angela mentioned it."

"And... what exactly are you going to do with the copy?"

Lifting herself onto her tiptoes, Brennan grazed his ear with her lips.

"Frame it for you?"

He gasped, but shook his head.

"Bones, you can't do that."

"I know, I need your help to get onto the copying machine."

"Seriously? Seriously. Alright, Bones, come on," he finally sighed.

And, wrapping one arm around her waist, he lifted her easily onto the machine, lingering for a moment just because her scent, so intoxicating and familiar, had hit his nostrils; lingering just because he could. His nose grazed her cheek, his lips followed shortly after; just a shadow of a kiss.

In the semi-darkness of the room, eyes found each other, two people forgetting the world for one breathless heartbeat.

"I think you should lift your skirt," he finally rasped, stepping between her legs, and she lifted first one buttock, then the other.

A soft gasp left her chest at the cold touch of the glass surface, and she regarded him with slightly parted lips. He was close – when had he come so close? His sturdy frame was looming in front of her, his breath warm on her face, and, still, his arm was circling her waist. His jeans were rubbing against the insides of her thighs – so soft, so rough – and then he came even closer, pressing himself between the vee of her legs, this spot that was made for him.

And she saw him: peace and something else in his eyes, dark stubble on his cheeks, the strong line of his mandible, the cockiness of his smile. And she felt him: his hand so warm and self-assured around her waist, his body firm between her legs. And she smelled him: Booth and winter and a just hint of eggnog.

Her belly trembled with sudden excitement, or maybe that was the eggnog as well, and something moved in her chest. He was so close, but, still, he could never be close enough. And then her hands were clutching his shirt, reducing the last inches between them to nothingness, as he fell into her kiss. Her lips parted immediately, tongues finding each other without delay. It was as deep as a winter night, their kiss, as deep as the freshly fallen snow, but it was burning, oh, it was burning.

Her lips were burning where his rough skin was scratching her, her chest was burning where she was so in love with him, so in love, her lower belly was burning where she ached for him. He licked and sucked, nibbling her bottom lip, caressing her tongue with his, and, with eyes wide closed and her arms firmly locked around him, she was taking and giving and responding.

His hand slid between their bodies, and, anticipating his touch, she sighed into his mouth, but a sudden glimmer of light hit her by surprise. That and a low buzz. Breaking the kiss, she smiled against his lips, staying perfectly still as long as the machine was working.

"We shouldn't forget the copy," he finally murmured, lowering his lips to her neck.

Tugging at her shirt, he exposed a patch of shoulder, sucking hard, and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him right there in place while he was marking her. She bit her lip, trying not to moan, and a primeval heat was building deep inside.

She wanted him. Here, now, always.

Hands flew to his jeans, opening buttons with nimble fingers, and he groaned into her flesh, releasing her reddened skin with a last lick.

"Bones... _oh_.._._"

His words were lost in a low moan, as she closed her slender hand around his hard shaft, squeezing without warning.

"Happy belated Christmas, Booth."

"Be... belated? It's not Christmas yet. Not late...," he uttered, finding out that forming coherent sentences was quite a task when she was stroking him like that.

"This is for our first Christmas," she clarified, reaching between her legs and tugging the black lace of her panties aside, pulling him into her drenched heat before he could even blink.

_Heat. Snug heat. Warm, wet, tight. Silky. Love. Want. Need. Hot. Oh God... yes._

Words were swirling in his head, but he couldn't quite manage to get them past his lips. Or maybe he could, but he didn't really know. All he knew was that she was cradling him with her whole body, sucking him into her passion, and it was kind of mean that he hadn't even gotten a chance to touch her, but he wasn't foolish enough to complain; not when she was all around him, wanting him so much.

Eventually, his smart hands found their way to her buttocks, cupping her sweet roundness, and he was pulling himself deeper and even deeper into her body.

In and out he moved, and friction was building, as heat met heat.

And, while he was teetering on the brink of something grand, his senses registered fragments. Her husky voice whispering into his left ear, the luscious swell of her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her cheek as he pressed his lips to it, a musky yet feminine scent lingering in the air.

Fragments that were her, that were them, that were making love.

And he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how much he desired her; wanted to tell her that the snow was whiter with her by his side, that Christmas lights were brighter and the world a better place, just because she loved him.

He'd have to tell her later.

Right now, he could only hope that she was close, was close as well, because his whole body felt as if it was about to burst, and he was snapping for air, as he was drowning in pleasure, was drowning in her, her body just so goddamn warm and perfect and wet around him.

And it was almost too much; his tongue in her mouth, her legs around his hips, his cock so deep inside of her, two people joined on so many levels, but then she tensed in his arms, shuddered and cried out, and, oh thank God, he let go almost violently, coming with her and for her and because of her.

Right there on the damn copying machine.

Without giving a shit about it.

He might clean it later, though.

-BONES-

Everything seemed more peaceful from the upper floor, the party reduced to mere background sound, the lab beneath them glowing in ethereal light, and, with dangling legs, they were sitting side by side, just like so many Christmases ago.

Turning his head, he took in her mussed up hair, her swollen lips, and something tugged at his heartstrings, as he was, once again, so utterly grateful that he was allowed to know her, finally know her.

"Bones?"

She squeezed his hand.

"Yes?"

"That was fun."

A naughty smile bloomed on her face, and he thought about the copy so safely hidden in his wallet.

"Yes, it was."

"Our first Christmas wasn't that fun."

Gnawing her bottom lip, she looked at him with calm eyes.

"I know. I wish it had been, though."

"I really wanted to be with Parker. I didn't even like you squints that much. And you... you were so untouchable with all your beauty and grief. I didn't even hug you..."

"Nonetheless, you touched me. Booth... back then, you told me something. 'Maybe the real gift is when you accept something with a little grace.' I... I opened my parents' gifts that night. Because of you."

Lifting their joined hands to his lips, he kissed her knuckles.

"Last year... I had a gift for you," he finally admitted, swallowing hard, and her heart stopped a little bit.

"A gift? You never gave it to me."

"I couldn't. One more unopened Christmas gift ..."

"Oh, Booth..."

Tilting her head, she placed it on his shoulder.

"I'd love to open your gift. No more unopened presents. No more sad memories."

His own head came to rest on top of hers, stubbly cheek pressed to soft hair.

"I like that a lot, Bones."

They fell silent for a while, enjoying each other's proximity, each other's warmth, and, while so content in the present, moments of the past came by, the happy ones you like to cherish as well as the ones that did still hurt. But, in the light of a new Christmas, they hurt less, seemed less sad and less frustrating.

"At least we didn't catch the lung fungus," he finally said, and she chuckled.

"Also, you're quite cute when you're drugged."

"The shiny lights _were _very beautiful."

"We found out the truth about careful Lionel. That was good."

"Yeah. And we found out some pieces of truth about each other," he added.

A son she hadn't know about. Loneliness he couldn't even begin to grasp.

"Maybe we needed being locked up," she finally said softly, and he wanted to hug her very much. So he did.

"Maybe."

And with his arms all around her and his face in her hair, she remembered that, nine years ago, even after 24 hours in lock-down, he had been the first person she had wanted to see.

Had been and still was.

To be continued...


	3. Steamboats and Mistletoes

_Thanks again to __Linda (1cosmicgirl) and Michelle (BlueMoonFan)!_

III. Steamboats and Mistletoes

"'Does your child have a pet allergy?' No. 'Is your child allowed to come in contact with reindeer?'"

Brennan frowned, looking at Christine.

"Do you want to come in contact with reindeer, Christine?"

"Rudolph!" the child exclaimed, and Brennan crossed the "yes" box.

"I still find it regrettable that you share your dad's enthusiasm when it comes to zoos."

"Zoo?"

The girl looked up hopefully.

"Elephant? Ice cream?"

"No, Christine, we're not going to the zoo. But," shaking her head, Brennan looked down at the form she had just filled in, "it appears you are going to come in contact with reindeer sometime soon."

The door opened and, snow flurries in his wake, Booth stumbled inside, his forehead sweaty despite the cold.

"You were right about running...," he panted, shaking his head to get rid of the snowflakes.

Christine giggled.

"Daddy snowman."

Brennan bent down to her daughter, whispering, "Maybe you should bite his nose to check if it's a carrot."

"I heard that. Your punishment is a hug," he stated dryly, walking towards her with arms wide open.

"Don't you dare!"

A devilish gleam in his eyes, he caught her in the kitchen, pulling her into a tight embrace flush against his frozen body. Her squeal was muffled by his shoulder.

"Aw, you're warm," he sighed, slipping his ice-cold fingers under her shirt, and she jerked in his arms.

"You, you..."

"Hah! Already regretting your 'no-cursing-in-front-of-the-child' policy, my dear?" he laughed, his cold nose nuzzling her neck.

"You know that I could kick your ass."

"Yeah, but you won't. Daddy's just hugging Mommy. That's nice. Mommy hitting Daddy – not so nice."

"Alright, you win. Your slyness beats mine," she finally sighed, and he peppered soft kisses along her jawline. Now that he was warming up, it wasn't that unpleasant anymore, she mused, relaxing in his arms. To her chagrin, he released her after another peck.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his hands, "thirty minutes to go. Need help with Christine's things?"

"No, she's ready to go. And so am I. Take your time, I'm going to drop her off at daycare."

"You're sure? It's snowing like hell."

"I'm an excellent driver."

He rolled his eyes, leaning in for another kiss.

"See you later, Bones."

Bending down, he scooped up his daughter, ruffling her hair.

"Have a nice day, baby."

"No baby, Daddy."

"Yup, your daughter, Bones."

"I know. Why are you saying it like that?"

Two pairs of equally bright blue eyes were looking up at him, and his heart began to smile.

"I love you."

Two more kisses, and he handed the child over to her mother, vanishing in the direction of the bathroom. Brennan looked down at her daughter in wonderment.

"Sometimes, your father is very hard to understand."

-BONES-

The morning went by quite uneventfully and, with no open case, Brennan spent most of it in her office, catching up on emails and paperwork. It had never bothered her before, but suddenly, she wished that the room had a real window.

One week till Christmas, and the city looked like a fairytale winter land.

She had never been particularly fond of snow, at least not after growing up, but, after all these years, it did mean something again. Brennan couldn't really put her finger on it, but it felt right that there was snow and it excited her somehow.

She thought about the snowmen in their garden, two big ones and their tiny companion. One of the bigger ones wore her old red bobble hat, the other one Booth's tie. The smallest one was decorated with Christine's baby mittens. It was corny somehow, and she had rolled her eyes as Booth had suggested it the other day, but, in the end, building them had been fun. And seeing them standing there... it meant something as well.

In the living room, there were stockings with their names. Under their bed, they had hidden some presents for Christine. It wasn't just December. This year, something was truly special.

"Heya, Bones."

And, just like that, the reason for her "something special" had manifested in her door frame.

"Hi Booth. Do we have a case?"

"Nope."

She cast a glance at her watch.

"You're late for lunch, then."

"I'm not here for lunch."

"You want intercourse?"

"Whoa, Bones!"

She shrugged.

"Those are your top three reasons for dropping by during the day."

"Geez, that sounds awful."

"Why? I like your reasons."

Partly embarrassed, partly flattered, Booth regarded her silently for a moment, but she looked up at him so seriously that his heart bubbled over for her. So many years of adoring her, so many years of wanting her. One special moment of getting a foretaste of what was yet to come... He could still remember the man he had been back then, could still see her red dress, the sudden nervousness in her eyes.

It had been a good bargain. An excellent bargain. Caroline Julian sure knew how to blackmail.

"I'm here for something else. Come here."

Standing up, she circled her desk, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere."

"I don't understand."

Taking her hand, he tugged her closer, meeting no resistance.

"Hi."

"Hi?"

One of his fingers pointed upwards.

"There used to be mistletoe here."

Understanding dawned on her, and she crooked her head to the side, smiling sweetly.

"Do you want me to get some?"

"Nope. Do you want some gum?"

She laughed out, thinking about her ridiculous excitement that day.

"No."

"Bones... I still remember every second. And all that I wished for back then was that there hadn't been mistletoe. And that it had been for the whole lab, hell, the whole wide world to see."

"Booth..."

And his lips slanted down on hers, fully. Clutching his lapels, she pulled him closer, just like back then, and a colony of butterflies fluttered in her belly, as his tongue invaded her mouth. He tasted like mint, but only slightly, and she shifted her head to improve the angle, to kiss him deeper and even deeper. He was caressing her with lips and tongue, his fingertips whispering over her face, mapping her.

Dizziness overwhelmed her somehow, and she needed to breathe, but even more than that, she needed him to never stop. Taking one more step towards him, a step she hadn't dared to take back then, she pressed her pelvis against his, and once again, it was a perfect fit.

And still, he was kissing her; teeth nibbling at her bottom lip, his tongue delving into her mouth over and over again. Her lips were humming in the most pleasant ways, and something inside of her opened; softened and melted.

_It was like kissing my brother..._

The lie flew back to her through time and space, and if she hadn't been so busy kissing him, Brennan might have laughed.

It had been anything but, and even though it had been blackmail, she hadn't tried to fight it too hard in the first place. Kissing Booth one more time... the prospect had just been too tempting, and doing it with the pretext of mistletoe should be safe, she had assumed. Assume... it makes an ass of u and me... The second his lips had touched hers, she had known that she was in trouble, and she still remembered the strange satisfaction that Caroline Julian had demanded at least "five steamboats". Another excuse, an excuse to linger...

Kissing him under the mistletoe, she had remembered kissing him in the rain, had felt a myriad of hopes and possibilities once again. She had been breathless, almost dazed afterwards and, if only for the briefest moment, her universe had moved.

"Booth...," she finally panted, breaking the kiss, inhaling deeply, and he drew her tight to his body, tight to his galloping heart.

"Yeah, a kiss like that," he murmured, pressing his cheek against her temple.

Turning her head, she snuck a peek at her office entrance, feeling a hint of disappointment that there was no crowd gathering in her door frame; but then again, Booth and Brennan kissing wasn't a sight that rare anymore.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for dropping by."

He chuckled, still holding her safely in his arms.

"My pleasure."

"Can you spare another hour?"

"Sure, Bones. You have something particular in mind?"

One eyebrow arched up suggestively.

"Yes. But not... _that_. It's just... another place I'd like to revisit."

-BONES-

When they drove past the heavy gates, it was easy to forget that it was Christmas time. This wasn't a place for magic, hopes and lights, and even though the snow covered the buildings, covered the barb wire fence, it couldn't cover the ugly reality that was this place.

There's hardly a reason for Santa to visit in prison.

Hardly a reason why children should spent Christmas Eve locked in here.

He stopped the car in sight distance to the dreary trailer, and Brennan regarded it with a wistful smile before turning to the man sitting next to her.

"I celebrated my best Christmas in sixteen years there."

Raising his hand, he cupped her shoulder, rubbing soothingly.

"I know."

"Look at this place, Booth. It's sad and harsh. It shouldn't feel beautiful, but it did. You made it so. You came here with that wonderful tree, and, even through the fence, we could see the lights. Booth," she took his face in both hands, "I loved my gift."

"It wasn't meant to be a gift..."

"And, maybe, that's what was best about it. Thank you."

Leaning in, she captured his lips for a sweet kiss, breathing once again against his mouth, "Thank you."

Nodding, he let her kiss him, and her gratitude washed over him like a wave of tenderness. He remembered the tree, his own joy about spending time with Parker after all, the sudden urge to make Christmas perfect for her as well – at least as close to perfect as circumstances allowed.

"Bones... you know that you'll get another tree this year, don't you?"

She laughed out loud, the sound of it caressing his ear.

"I insist on it. Still... that one was special."

"Sometimes..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know, it's just that, sometimes, I have no clue why it took us seven damn years to get together."

"Had there been no fence between us..."

"Yeah, had there been no fence..."

"Booth?"

"Huh?"

"There's no fence right now. Take me home."

And home he took her, in the big SUV that might very well have been a sleigh; and love he made, cradling her precious body in his arms, rocking her world.

Not because of mistletoe or a tree.

Just because they could.

And there were steamboats.

To be continued...


	4. Evidence and Saints

_Thanks again to __Linda (1cosmicgirl) and Michelle (BlueMoonFan) for betaing!  
_

IV. Evidence and Saints

"Noooooo!"

Brennan squealed with delight, holding the little red gnome that was her daughter tight in her embrace, as the sleigh slid down the icy slope. The girl, being her parents' child, didn't know any fear, giggling happily as the cold wind hit her face.

They came to a halt in a snow pile at the foot of the hill.

"More," Christine screamed, turning around to her mother. "More, more!"

Booth laughed out loud.

"You're up for another ride?"

The woman gasped for air, adjusting her woolen hat.

"No, I need a break."

"Mommy! More! More! Sled!"

Brennan's gaze wandered from the excited child in her arms back to the man sitting behind her.

"We've created a monster, Booth."

His laughter could be heard once again, as his frozen nose poked her neck.

"No, she's just happy. One more time before we head home?"

She shook her head.

"I'm going to sit this one out. But have fun."

"Alright, come on Christine."

He plucked his daughter out of her mother's arms, attacking the steep ascent. Catching her breath, Brennan watched her family climbing up the hill, the big man pulling the sleigh and the little human being in a red snowsuit in his arms. Experiencing a sudden burst of happiness, Brennan plopped down into the soft snow. Her butt ached from the foreign exertion, it was a wooden sled after all, but she couldn't really remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

It was Sunday, an ordinary Sunday except that there was nothing ordinary about it. Christmas was only three days away, and the mere fact that she was counting down to this year's Christmas did mean something.

In the distance, she could see that Booth and Christine had reached the peak once again, and she observed with a mother's eyes, a mother's heart, how he took his place on the sled; how he tucked the little child safely between his thighs. And then the descent began, and even though it was impossible, she could hear how the ice-cold wind carried their laughter straight to her place, straight to her chest.

A smile she wouldn't have been able to suppress curved up her lips, and her eyes beamed. Around her, Brennan could spot other families, other fathers with their kids, but she was part of it, was finally and unexpectedly part of it. And then the two people she loved most came to a halt just a few feet away from her. She clapped her hands.

"That was awesome!"

"Aw'some," the child repeated, and Booth pressed a kiss to his daughter's head.

"I think someone needs a fresh diaper, though," he stated with a scrunched-up nose.

"No," the child shook her head. "More sled!"

"No, Honey, it's time to go home. Don't you want a nice hot chocolate?"

"Nooooooooo."

And the whining began.

It didn't stop until later, much later, until the three of them were snug and warm in front of their fireplace, big mugs full of hot chocolate warming their hands.

And there was peace; a calm kind of peace, a cozy kind of peace.

Three days before Christmas, there wasn't room for anything else. Not this year.

-BONES-

Even the lab was peaceful, strangely peaceful, and although it made no sense at all, it felt as if murder and mayhem were taking a break, allowing the city to breathe. Cam was still busy collecting compromising video footage from the Jeffersonian Christmas party that had somehow gotten out of hand, and Angela was secretly painting a family Christmas portrait for her husband.

Everybody was happily following their own agenda, and for once, Brennan did not mind. For the first time ever, she regretted all those Christmases she had spent away from Booth; in a faraway hot country collecting dusty bones, somewhere, anywhere she could go to escape the holidays. And last year, hidden in a joyless motel where neither Santa nor Pelant had been able to find them. It was sad somehow that in nine whole years, she had only spent four Christmases with Booth; three of them so stolen, so unwillingly. And one of them wholly unprepared.

Lolling in her desk chair, her muscles still aching from sledding, she remembered the other Christmas two years ago, when they had already been a family. Her belly heavy with his child, the Mighty Hut still a ruin. She had been afraid, so afraid to believe in her new reality.

He had tried, had really tried, but she had rejected everything that had looked faintly like mistletoe or Christmas trees. The child had been moving around inside her, announcing her presence, but Brennan had felt so vulnerable, so raw in this new life that had somehow happened to her.

And Christmas had come without bright lights or stockings. Christmas had gone by without her having been ready for it.

Now, for the first time ever, she felt ready to accept the bliss that was Christmas with the ones you love, and even though she had always believed in the truth, she was prepared to lie to create this special kind of magic for her daughter.

Santa and elves and the power of wishes.

She wanted that for Christine. She wanted it for Booth as well.

But there were still three days to go, and there was something else that needed to be done before unwrapping presents underneath a tree.

"Hi Bones. You wanted to see me?"

The man in question appeared in her office, and she greeted him with a warm smile, trading musings for reality within the blink of an eye.

"Yes. Follow me."

"Okay..."

He stretched the word, made it sound like a question, but her smile didn't disappear as she took his hand, guiding him to an empty room.

"Booth... I believe one Christmas is still missing in our recreation."

He blinked softly, remembering a gathering, a toast.

_To family... friends... lovers... family... and food._

_You said "family" twice. It's repetitious._

_It's a good toast, though. Cheers. Okay?_

"The one that felt like family?"

Her smile deepened.

"Yes. The one where you were evidence."

He laughed out jollily.

"I tried to push that part to the back of my mind."

She regarded him with deep eyes.

"I did not."

"Okay... Meaning?"

"Take a seat on the table."

"Bones. I don't know why- _hey_!"

Raising his hands, he tried to shield his face from... whatever it was she was throwing at him.

"Hey! What's that?"

She looked down at the bowl in her hand.

"Apple pie."

"Why are you throwing apple pie at me?"

She didn't even blink.

"Authenticity. I figured you wouldn't want to be covered in actual human remains."

"Hey! You're ruining apple pie for me when it's second best!"

She shrugged.

"It's squashy. That should be enough. Take a seat, Booth."

Grumbling, he hopped onto the metallic table, regarding his ruined suit.

"Thanks a lot Bones."

She wasn't really listening anymore, though she was already regarding him as if he was evidence.

"I have to remove your clothing."

He swallowed hard.

"Bones!"

Her pink tongue darted out, as she moistened her lips, and her blue eyes bore into his.

"Yes?"

"Do we really have to do this?"

Leaning in, she brushed his cheek with her mouth.

"You will love it. Now, stay still."

And, just like so many years ago, he held his breath, as she removed his jacket, and as her glove-clad hands tugged at his tie, a smile played around his lips.

He remembered.

Remembered how he had tried to pretend that she wasn't t wearing any gloves, how he had allowed himself the luxury to feel, for one breathless heartbeat, that she was undressing him.

And... she was undressing him.

"You have a perfect acromion."

His mouth went dry, as he could smell Santa's burned flesh once more, and it was as if her hands were baring him for the first time.

"Now stand up."

Unable to do anything else, he obeyed, and immediately she dropped onto her knees in front of him and, as she belt slipped through its loops, he focused on the crown of her head. He knew the sight by now, knew what it could mean, and it was not possible to stop the heat from rushing into his groin.

"Bones..."

Looking up at him, she opened the button of his pants.

"Time to recite some saints, Booth."

"Not funny... _oh_..."

And suddenly, unexpectedly, her talented mouth was all around him, and he was dying a little bit in her damp heat.

"Shit," he gasped, and her laughter sent vibrations along his hard shaft.

"Cameras?" he managed to utter, but she shook her head, replacing her lips with her palm for one stolen heartbeat.

"No cameras and the door is locked. Relax, Booth. I really want to do this. Wanted..."

And her lips were back, sucking him into her sinful mouth once again. His hands clutched the cold edge of the table, holding tightly onto it, and he blinked against the bright light of the room, falling into her rhythm. She was good at this, he knew that she was good at this, but they weren't at home, they were right here in her house of reason, and she was wearing her prim blue lab coat and a high ponytail.

"Not fair..."

One hand snuck between his legs, cupping his heavy balls, and through the layer of her latex gloves, he could feel the warmth of her skin. And his body shuddered.

It was a fantasy, but it wasn't. It was back then and it was now. And she was sucking him, swallowing him deeply with the most delicious pressure; and she was licking him, her warm tongue circling his plump head.

His whole body was aching for her, aching with burning need, and, for the love of God, he couldn't remember the name of one single saint anymore.

His knees buckled as he tried to keep standing, and finally, he couldn't stop his hands from flying into her hair anymore. She was his, so very much his; but he was hers as well.

Had been back then and was most definitely now.

And she was kissing him; so intimately with lips and tongue, her eyes closed, long lashes casting dark shadows on her cheeks. And then she was moaning, deep inside her throat, and he was lost. Cupping his buttocks, she pulled him into her mouth almost roughly, taking him in as deep as possible, and he groaned nearly helplessly, trying to pull away, but it was futile...

… because she wanted this. Had wanted this. Needed this.

And then he was lost, and bright lights danced in his mind, as he inhaled a shaky breath, as he splintered; and she didn't stop sucking him, taking everything he had to give.

And the room fell silent, as his arms ached for her.

-BONES-

Unlike back then, she helped him getting dressed so tenderly. His suit was still ruined, but he didn't mind anymore. His brain felt like pulp, his body utterly sated.

"Bones..."

And he pulled her into his arms, kissing her roughly, kissing her for the first time ever in that room. She was his. So his. But as he reached for the buttons of her pants, she retreated, catching his hands.

"No, Booth, don't."

"But I want. You... you..."

Her swollen lips met his, gently.

"If you want, you can show your gratitude later, but this... this was perfect. Thank you."

He laughed out, feeling almost foolishly.

"Thank you? Are you nuts? Thank _you_, Babe!"

His arms all around her, she looked at him with soul wide open.

"That was the missing piece, Booth." And she smiled. "Merry Christmas."

-BONES-

It was already dark, when they arrived home, when Booth took one drowsy girl from her grandfather. He was lingering, the old crook, basking a few more moments in this wonderful life his daughter had given him, saying yes to one more drink, as Booth put his granddaughter to bed.

Accepting one dinner invitation for Christmas day because Brennan and Booth wanted it; remembering another time when he had to tell her that being alone on Christmas meant that nobody loved you. She was loved; he knew that, had known it all along. But, the biggest miracle was that so was he.

And as he hugged her goodbye, he couldn't help but notice that her hair smelled like apple pie; couldn't help but mention it, and she blushed, blinking almost shyly, mumbling something he couldn't understand.

Then he was gone, a whistle on his lips, and Brennan closed the door, turning around to the man that had approached her from behind. And it was a winter night three days before Christmas, when he scooped her up in his arms, carried her to their couch; when it was his turn to undress her, to examine her body, and as he showed his gratitude, his lips buried so intimately between her legs, he made her forget the periodic table of elements; just like she had made him forget every saint that had ever existed.

And it was evidence.

To be continued...


	5. The Eve in the Day

_Thanks again to __Linda (1cosmicgirl) and Michelle (BlueMoonFan)!_

V. The Eve in the Day

The mobile sung its lullaby, but the child was still lolling in her crib; blue eyes wide open.

"Don't you want to sleep?" Brennan whispered, rubbing her daughter's belly, and Christine held fast onto her purple elephant, shaking her little head.

"Christmas," she purred with heavy eyelids, blinking slowly.

"Christmas is tomorrow. When you wake up, and if you're very lucky, Santa would have visited."

"Santa..."

"Yes. Grandpa Max will come, Parker and great-grandpa Hank. Oh, and Angela, Hodgins and Michael."

"Michael."

"Yes. Do you want to play with Michael?"

Christine nodded tiredly, a big yawn splitting the little face. Brennan smiled, couldn't help but find her daughter precious and adorable. From downstairs, a loud crash was heard, followed by an unholy curse.

"That's Daddy with the tree. I should be down there helping him. Don't you want to sleep, Christine?"

"Noooo... Sing, Mommy."

"Sing? What song?"

"Snow!"

There were a lot of songs about snow, but ever since Christine had experienced her first real winter with snowmen and sleigh rides, Brennan knew exactly which song her little girl had in mind. And, with a sweet smile, she began to sing.

"The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful..."

The child blinked twice more, caressed by her mother's voice, and Brennan's lullaby filled the house with warmth as she sang a song about snow, about coziness and one winter day. The words left her lips, forming the well-known melody, but for the first time ever she was able to grasp the meaning of that song, could feel its joy deep down in her heart. _Let it snow_. A few minutes later, the child was asleep, and Brennan bent down carefully, kissing her daughter's soft head, inhaling her utterly familiar scent.

"Sleep tight, my love."

Tiptoeing out of the room, Brennan dimmed the light, finally heading downstairs, ready to face whatever disaster was waiting for her. Getting a tree on Christmas Eve was awfully late, still Booth had managed to bring home one stately fir. They had tinsel and Christmas lights, some of her parents' ornaments as well as some of the few that had survived his childhood. She had purchased some red glitter balls earlier this week, and all in all, they were prepared to decorate the tree. That was, if he survived putting it up in the first place.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, here."

His voice sounded rather weak, and as she rounded the corner, Brennan erupted in laughter. The tree was standing, but...

"Why are _you _wearing the fairy lights?"

He shrugged as well as possible in the restraints of the chain.

"Hell, I don't know. It sorta happened. Help me, Bones!"

Suppressing the giggles, she regarded him seriously.

"I don't know, maybe I should take a picture first."

"Not funny."

Raising her shoulders, she approached him gracefully.

"You know, it is a little bit funny. But since I'm a nice woman..."

Thirty minutes later, he was not only freed but the tree was decorated with bright ornaments and lights. Being parents to a very curious toddler, Booth and Brennan were smart enough to only decorate the upper half of the fir and leave the lower branches bare, and even though it looked a little bit lopsided, it was one gorgeous Christmas tree. The best they'd ever had. The first they'd ever had.

She went to the kitchen to pour two glasses of wine while he dimmed the light in the living room.

"Ready Bones?"

Padding back to him in slipper socks, she handed one glass over to him and he accepted it with a thankful nod.

"Yes, ready."

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"To appreciate the magic."

Her mouth opened to reveal her very own thoughts about the magic that was lying in fairy lights, but upon seeing his reverent face, she closed it again; closed it and closed her eyes.

"Yes, ready," she repeated, and he disappeared for one moment before his arm was back around her shoulder.

"Open your eyes."

And that's what she did. Blinking once, swallowing twice. Adjusting to the dim light, to the dazzling vision of their tree. There were Christmas lights, she knew that, she had put them there. The branches were curving under the weight of the ornaments, and a trace of fir needles was lingering in the air. It wasn't perfect, but... it was. A strange sense of pride washed over her, and Brennan experienced the sudden urge to fetch her pillow and sleep underneath their tree. The woman took a deep breath, as the girl she had once been stared in wonder.

"Beautiful," she whispered, and his gaze did not once leave her face.

"Yeah," he smiled, and then she turned around to him with big eyes, astonishment written all over her face.

"Our tree."

"Yes, Bones, our tree."

She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat, and he observed her with adoring eyes.

"We did that," she finally whispered, and he pulled her tighter to his body, kissing the crown of her head.

"That's what parents should do, you now? Create magic."

"She will love it."

For one flicker of a moment, Booth thought about their little girl in her footsie PJs, bright eyes in the morning, her lips parted in amazement. A smile so boyish and carefree lit up his own face.

"Yeah, she will."

Young Temperance underneath the tree, young Temperance without Christmas, the African sun burning down on her on Christmas day, lockdown in the lab, a new family, mistletoe and hope. Two lines on a pregnancy test, a tiny girl that looked up at her with her very own eyes, the perfect warmth of strong arms around her at night. One life; one life that felt like many, as the Christmases of the past stepped aside, making room for something new, something so incredibly good.

"Booth..."

And he pulled her even closer, as her arms flew around his body, wine glasses be damned.

And he squeezed her lovingly, swaying her gently; wine glasses be damned.

His face buried in the crook of his neck, she breathed him in, fighting against dizziness and something else.

"So... this is Christmas?" she finally asked, her voice just a whisper in the big room, and he nodded fiercely.

"This is the beginning of it. The best is yet to come."

"What do we do now?"

Kissing her brow, he took a step back to look at her.

"Well, we could open a present. One is allowed on Christmas Eve."

Her lips curved up.

"Both a day and an eve... a Christmas miracle."

And his beam was her answer.

"You listened."

"I always do."

"You want one present, Bones?"

"Yes, please."

He gathered a few pillows, putting them around their tree, pulling her down. From their new position, the tree looked even brighter, even bigger, and the gift he put into her hands was small but heavy.

"What is it?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

"X-rays?"

"Nope, try again."

And she tugged at the wrapping paper, smiling almost shyly. After a few moments, a little ornament fell into her hands. It was sentimental and it wasn't. It was a gesture that tugged at her heart.

_First Christmas together._

"Booth..."

He took her hand, fingers caressing her knuckles.

"To new traditions, Bones," he whispered, raising his glass.

"To new traditions," she repeated.

"Turn it around."

And on the backside, in tiny numbers, she could read "2005".

For the briefest fraction of a moment, her heart stopped.

A lung fungus, a party that had not been, forced togetherness. Still... it had been their first Christmas, a memory to cherish. And he knew it.

"I love it," she smiled after a while, putting it tenderly onto their tree, watching it dangling in the magic-y light.

Leaning in for a kiss, a kiss so soft.

"Your turn," she finally smiled, pointing at one present at his feet.

"That one?"

She nodded. He tore the paper apart and his jaw dropped.

"Bones..."

"I despise giving pets as Christmas gifts, but... I'd like to express my willingness to expand our family."

And her gaze fell to the dog bowl in his hands.

"With a dog named Gretzky."

His fingers traced the name engraved in the enamel bowl.

"A dog?"

His eyes brightened, as he regarded her so happily.

"You want to get a dog with me?"

Bowing her head, she lifted her hand.

"I'd like to get him from an animal shelter, of course, and we need a dog sitter, but... yes, Booth, a dog."

He nearly climbed on top of her in his attempt to take her into his arms, and she toppled into the pillows, taking him with her.

"A real dog? Gretzky?" he beamed, and she laughed out breathlessly.

"Yes, a real Gretzky."

And then he kissed her, simply because there weren't words to express what he felt and because it was Christmas. Her lips parted, as her body softened for him, and her arms locked around his back, pulling him on top of her. He was heavy, but the sensation was familiar, and like everything that was familiar and Booth, she loved it.

Big hands spanned her waist, lips caressed her neck, and, above them, their Christmas tree was sparkling. Making love underneath a Christmas tree... it might be over the top; a tad too mushy, a tad too Christmas-y. But she had never done it before, and neither had he, and when he peeled her out of her clothes; when he cupped her mound to feel her warmth, it wasn't mushy, it was real.

She responded with eagerness, freeing him from his own garments, desperate to feel him skin to skin. And then it was skin to skin...

A moan, a gasp. Fingers brushing over swollen heat, lips closing over taut nipples; teasing and giving.

She was swimming in a sea of feelings, but she wasn't alone, was never alone, because he was right there with her, his hips nudging her thighs apart, his naked body pressing her into the soft pillows. His lips were on hers, so intimately on hers, as he entered her body, sliding into her with a shudder, and shivers whispered down her spine, as her belly grew hot.

He was in her; so perfectly in her, as deep as no one else before him had ever been. Her body was humming, calling out to him, breasts aching to get his attention, and his attention they got, legs desperate to accommodate him.

He was home and light and every Christmas that had ever been.

Tomorrow would be full of friends and family and food and laughter. Next week, they might get a dog to expand their family. Sometime in May, she might be sitting in front of another pregnancy test, waiting once again for a second blue line to appear.

Life was a circle; but so was love.

From the very first "hello" over a few stolen kisses, down the heavy path of regret until finally, the sun had risen for them. Until they hadn't been able anymore to disentangle from each other.

And he was loving her; his body sliding in and out of her, moving within her, moving her. His thrusts perfect and deep, his palm cupping one breast, the other one cradling her face.

Loving her with body and soul and mind.

And he was hard; hard where she was soft, steel where she was silk. A perfect fit known from the beginning of time. Friction and pressure and heat. Her womanhood so snug around him; his body so anchored in hers.

He loved her, did love her, and was proving it. Over and over again. Until she began to fly and bodies weren't heavy anymore; until a wave of release and warmth washed over her, carrying her away on a soft cry; a cry that he swallowed, but then he was flying with her. His body coming undone in hers. Another gift; an ancient one. A gift that she accepted with more than a little grace.

Because she loved him. Even though it made no sense and couldn't be proved, she loved him.

And he loved her.

-BONES-

Then it was Christmas.

To be continued...

_Thanks for following this story and merry Christmas!_  
_Next one is a teeny tiny epilogue._


	6. Epilogue

_One last time: all my love to Linda (1cosmicgirl) and Michelle (BlueMoonFan)!_

VI. Epilogue

She awoke to the rosy light of dawn. A new day, the day after Christmas. Next to her, Booth was still sleeping soundly, his dark hair standing in every direction, their little daughter resting safely on his chest. Every breath he took caused Christine's feathery hair to flutter, and Brennan turned around on her elbow, watching them with a full heart.

A sight so rich in peace and love.

Grazing his cheek, the child's head with one cautious finger, Brennan eventually slipped out of the bed, reaching for her robe. Fastening the belt, she padded downstairs on bare feet, starting the coffee machine, lingering in the kitchen for a few minutes, thinking about everything and nothing.

Christmas had been splendid. Happy children – even though Christine had found the wrapping paper and boxes more interesting than the actual presents – excellent food, friends and family. It had been a day one should lock away in their heart for hard times, a day that already was and would forever be a precious memory.

It had been Christmas.

Taking one mug full of steamy coffee, Brennan walked in the direction of their living room, and there it was. Their tree. It was still magnificent, still festive, as if it didn't know that Christmas was over. Over. It was over.

Come and gone.

On the floor, crumpled wrapping paper was lying around, evidence of joy and pleasure, and she poked one paper bundle with her toes. Taking a sip of coffee, Brennan pondered tidying up, but part of her wasn't ready to let go of Christmas, not this year. Part of her wanted to hold fast onto it and everything it implied.

How do you go on after the holidays? How do you slip back into a life without bright lights, gingerbread and snowmen?

Could they still go sledding tomorrow? Sing Christmas carols?

How do you know that it is over?

She thought about Gretzky the dog, thought about another way of expanding their family. She hadn't mentioned it to Booth so far, but over the past weeks, Brennan had caught herself thinking about it every once in a while. Another baby.

Was he ready for one more child? Or should she ask him to marry her first?

So many possibilities, so many roads yet untraveled.

So many unknown variables, things that did just happen in this miracle that was life. One thing was for certain though, and it couldn't be explained, but she did never question it for one second. She belonged to Booth. Or he to her.

That was that.

"Look, there's Mommy."

Unbeknownst to her, Booth had entered the room, a smiling Christine on his shoulders.

"Good morning," she murmured, waving softly.

Booth put down the child, and Christine danced towards the Christmas tree.

"More Christmas?"

"Yes, there's more Christmas today. We'll switch on the lights and you can play with your new toys all day long."

Brennan's eyes flew to him.

"There's more Christmas?"

Taking a few steps towards her, he took her into his arms, and she inhaled his sleepy warm scent.

"There's the tree and plenty of leftover food. It doesn't have to end today, Bones."

She buried her face in his chest.

"I like that."

"Bones...?"

"Hmm?"

"With you, every single day feels like Christmas morning," he murmured, and if she didn't already love him so damn much...

Lifting herself onto her toes, she met his lips for a warm kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Booth."

"Merry life, Bones."

The End.


End file.
